A Path Re-taken
by Clink
Summary: A scene from the past plagues a man who returns to the only place that can help him forgive himself for what happened so long ago. (Now completed! Review and tell me what you think. Thanks to Key for the title!)
1. In my life there is someone who touches ...

"It's been a long time." A young man whispered to the strong, iron gate in which he stood in front of. "Too long." He looked through the bars, taking in the scene before him. Large, luminous trees with branches that reached towards the heavens stood at the back of the cemetery, and directly behind them a small Protestant church loomed in the background. The same ivy weaved in and out of the old planks of wood that made up the church, and the same fog even covered the lone window on the side. The antique, rusted cross at the steeple of the church seemed to be leaning to the side from weariness. It was all the same, except it seemed a lot smaller than it had the last time he had been there.  
  
Mustering up what courage he had left inside of him, the man hefted his knapsack's strap higher onto his shoulder. Then he held his clean hands out in front of him and pushed with the strength from his chest and shoulders. A rusty creak escaped the gate as the hinges gave way and allowed themselves to twist, letting the gate swing open. The sound of at least a dozen black birds was heard as they escaped from the opening of the cemetery, flying off into the cloudy, gray sky. With a light frown down at his now dirt streaked hands, the man walked slowly into the cemetery. He had a casual habit of pulling at the seams of his tie and clean, pressed white shirt as he stepped over small, unreadable headstones and rocks. A pattern of kept and unkept graves spread across the small area. Very few graves had actually been visited recently; cheap or wild flowers covered their sections.  
  
And then he saw it.  
  
He sank to the ground in front of his destination. His gray slacks that were once clean landed with a wet sucking sound onto the dank grass. And, for the first time in ten years, he lifted his head to seek, with his now misty brown eyes, what was before him.  
  
It was a simple grave. No headstone. No mark, save for the large boulder that had been lugged into the cemetery so long ago.   
  
'Was it that far back in time?' the young man wondered. It seemed like yesterday. When all of his troubles seemed to be ganging up on him from behind. A numb feeling encircled his heart as his eyes seemed to fade into a flash of remembrance:  
  
"RUN! Go get help, now! Oh, God... Ohh..."  
  
The echo from the past seemed to boom directly from the grave in front of the lone man. With a weak gasp he fell backwards, so that his palms fell behind his shoes. A cold wind whipped across his forehead, pushing his brown, neatly styled hair away from it's trained position. For a minute, the man closely resembled the figure of his past...  
~*  
"Heh. Mush. Looka dat boid over dere."   
  
"Eh wha huh muh?" Mush mumbled as he sat up from the bench in central park, on which he had been trying to take a nap on. "Didja say a goil?"  
  
Blink's lone, blue eye rolled around in his head as he turned around and smacked his friend on one of his dark cheeks. "No, ya louse! A BOID. See dat boid?" He pointed over to a small duck pond about 3 yards away, where a little pigeon was shaking it's multi-colored tail feathers all over the place.   
  
Mush blinked his tired brown eyes as he stared hard at the bird. It was almost as if he was trying to make the bird do something extraordinary to make up for his missing beauty sleep.  
  
Once again, the bird began to shake his tail feathers more vigorously, forcing the rest of his little body to hop involuntarily from stone to stone.   
  
Blink pointed at the bird again and giggled. "Wow!"  
  
"Ya need a new hobby, Kid." Mush muttered as he lay back down on the warm bench. "Really. Ya do."   
  
"Aww, nice to know ya care, Mushy baby." His friend crooned. With a sigh of sheer elaxation, he stretched his long and limber legs out in front of him, resting his back up against the side of the bench that Mush was laying on, before turning his attention back to his fine feathered friends.   
  
Mush opened his mouth for a wide yawn and then licked his lips. The bright, yellow sun was shining down at the two boys through a collection of extravagant white cumulous clouds. It was all in all a nice day for lying around rather than selling papers to old women or business men. The common sounds of Central Park surrounded them as the two zoned away from each other. With a last look down at Blink's nappy head of blonde hair, Mush sighed contentedly and pushed his brown cap down over his eyes. It felt so good to just relax... and not worry about a...  
  
"Hey, Mush, wake up!" Blink poked Mush in his side, hurriedly. "Looka dis!"  
  
Mush groaned and pulled his cap off of his eyes as he sat up unwillingly. "Blink, if it's dat damned boid again I'se gunna... oh. Oh!"  
  
On the other side of the duck pond, there was a group of squirrels surrounding a tall oak tree. One large, chestnut colored squirrel, who was sitting near the middle of the tree, was shaking a branch that seemed to reach out toward the pond. Little acorns dropped from the branch and fell to the ground; some even beamed a few hungry, waiting squirrels on the head!  
  
Blink looked up from his position on the ground up at his friend, who was smiling broadly at the site. *bonk!* Another acorn fell onto of an unsuspecting squirrel's tail. He leaped up in a state of shock, squeaking in surprise. Realizing that the evil doer was merely his lunch, he snatched up the acorn and scampered off to his little hiding place.  
  
In their state of awe, the two boys didn't notice the figure that came up behind them. It's face was shadowed from the large, black cowboy hat that rested on it's head. It watched the boys gape at scene in front of them, and then could no longer hold in a giggle.  
  
Blink twirled around with a stunned look on his face. "Les! What're you doin' here?"  
  
Les attempted to tip his hat up on his forehead, but being that the hat was much too large for him, it slipped right down over his eyes. He gave up trying to be suave, and settled for pulling the hat off of his head alltogether. "I'se watchin' you!" He answered defiantly.  
  
"Watchin' us sit here?" Mush asked as he looked over his shoulder at the young boy behind him.  
  
"Naw," A voice that came from the front of the other three boys answered for Les. "More like watchin' you two look at dose squirrels as if dey was pretty dames."  
  
Blink grinned and winked at Jack Kelly, who smirked down at him from his casual stance. "And may I say dat dose rodents have da best lookin' tails in all of Manhattan?"   
  
"Ya moron!" Mush exclaimed as he slapped Blink on the head with his cap. Both of their dirty cheeks flushed with color as they laughed in unison.  
  
Les continued to look up at his hero, Jack, who stood with his crossed arms laying comfortably against his chest, as he looked down at his two friends with a sort of interest.  
  
"Hey!" Les shouted all of a sudden. The three older boys looked over at him with confusion in their eyes.  
  
"Huh?" The three said in unison.  
  
"We've got a party ta go to!" The younger exclaimed, jumping around on his tiptoe.   
  
Mush rolled his eyes and smacked his forehead, knowing he known he had forgotten something he was supposed to do. "Doh!!"  
  
"Dats right," Jack said with a grin as he grabbed Les' cowboy hat and stuffed it over his face while he was still hopping about. "Brooklyn awaits the arrival of the Manhattan King!"  
  
Blink leaped from his former position on the ground and slung an arm around the taller boy's shoulders. "Well, why keep 'em waitin'?" The two grinned at each other and began their walk towards Brooklyn; away from Central Park and towards the celebration for newsboys from all around the great city of New York.  
  
"Hey, wait for me!" Les yelled after them as he fiddled with the hat on his head, trying to make it sit right. Mush smiled slightly to himself and sat straight up on a bench. Stretching his back while reaching high into the air, he waited the welcome cracks from his back. He then smacked his lips and placed his hands on his knees. As he lifted his tanned face to the sunlight, he couldn't help but think that that night would be one to remember. Then, just as quickly as it had come, the feeling left him. He swiped his dark curls with a hurried hand and then jumped from his seat with quite a lot of energy as he ran to catch up with his friends, who were already on their way to the party.  
  
  



	2. Take my love and lead me to salvation

"Jacky-boy!" A thin, lanky boy of 16 exclaimed as he saw the older boy enter the Brooklyn warehouse with his friends. "Looks like you'se finally decided to show."  
  
"Conlon, long time no see." Jack responded with a friendly slap on the back. Spot in return nodded his head and smirked up to his long time friend. He let his sharp hazel eyes scan the crowd of newsboys and girls. Several were playing the usual game of poker, some were trying their best on the dance floor, and a few were just lounging, smoking and conversing about their lives. A few younger boys were busy playing old and discarded instruments; plucking fiddles and beating on drums. The sound was a melodious Celtic and classical mix which never ended. A few brave souls were busy prancing around the dance floor, kicking their legs around and every now and then shouting to each other. It was quite a site to see.  
  
"Looks like a nice turn up." Spot remarked, pulling his gold tipped cane out of his belt loop. He wouldn't be caught without his favorite heirloom.  
  
Jack grinned and nodded his head in response. He was leaning against a column in the Brooklyn newsboys' lodging house; the scene of the party. There was a lot of noise coming in from outside on the docks, as well.  
  
"Jack!" A voice called from the dance floor. Davey, the curly, brown haired boy and best friend was waving his hands madly in his direction, his boyish grin flashing in a wild manner. "Come over here!"  
  
Jack laughed, slapping Spot on his back in a farewell before carefully making his way through the crowd towards Davey. He tried modestly not to notice that everyone made a way for him as he came towards them. "Whatcha want, Mouth?" He asked once he reached him. Davey rolled his eyes at the mention of his nickname. He still hadn't warmed up to the term.  
  
"What are you doing in the corner all by yourself, Cowboy?" Davey asked, winking slightly. "Wouldn't you rather dance with a pretty girl?"   
  
"If I see one, I'll letcha know." Jack retorted, reaching nonchalantly in his pocket for a cigarette.  
  
"Well," Davey replied with a slick grin. "Don't look now, but..." He whirled Jack around in the opposite direction, his face a mask of surprise with his cigarette hanging carelessly from his moist lips. In the back of the warehouse Jack saw a vision of a dame.   
  
"We came late!" Davey shouted in his ear in order to be heard over the series of groans and hoots of triumph that arose from the poker table. "She's been waiting for you."  
  
Jack retrieved his unlit cigarette from his mouth and placed it back in his pocket. He lightly squeezed Davey's shoulder in thanks. His eyes were glued on his girl who was looking awkwardly around the space. With a confident deep breath, he made his way towards her. When he was a few feet in front of her, she raised her eyes to look at him, a sudden flush in her cheeks.  
  
"Hi," He said with a slight wave.  
  
"Hi," She replied, running a hand over her hair. "Do you, umn, wanna dance?"  
  
"Ain't I supposed to be the one to ask that?" Jack asked with a raised eyebrow, laughing slightly. Before she could respond, he grasped her around her waist and led her onto a spare space in the center of the warehouse. She took his hands and began to sort of jig, her eyes watching his carefully. They were spinning, spinning around and many eyes were on them. They laughed as other couples followed their lead, not caring if they fell down or if they tripped over each other's feet.  
~*  
The night drew on slowly, people coming and going as the stars tried in vain to peek out from the smog like sky. Sarah had gone with a promise of coming back later, so Jack now took refuge along with a couple of his friends at the poker table, cigarette butts littering the lopsided table on which they played on.  
  
"I meet your nickel, and I raise you a dime." Racetrack Higgins proclaimed as he tossed his money on the slight pile. There were slight "oohs" and "ahhs" as the onlookers of the table glanced in Jack's direction. Race, the short and highly driven gambler grinned in an imp like manner at Jack, waiting for a response.  
  
Jack frowned at his cards, wanting to draw out the suspense. He loved to watch Race sweat. Just as he was about to reply, a hand fell on his shoulder.   
  
"Hey, um, Jacky-boy," Spot said, tipping his cap up off of his eyes with the brass top of his cane. "I need ta have some woids with you."  
  
Jack raised his eyebrows at his cards that he held closely to his body as he regarded Spot. "Can't dis wait, Spot? I'm in da middle of a game."  
  
"Somethin' like dis can't wait." Spot replied in a hushed tone. He leaned forward, placing one hand on the poker table as he brushed his tightly pursed lips against Jack's ear. "Now."  
  
With a quick glance back at the serious expression on the smaller boy's face, Jack slapped his cards down on the table with a quick cut motion to his throat with his hand. He then stood up and followed Spot to the back of the warehouse where no one had taken station.  
  
"What's dis all about, Spot?" Jack asked as he pulled a smoke out of his pants pocket. He offered one to Spot, but the other just smirked lightly as he fit his cane back into his pants loop.  
  
"It's about an unexpected visitor we have in our midst, Jacky-boy." Spot said. "I think you bettah leave, 'fore things get ugly."  
  
Jack's eyebrows flew up at the leader tone that Spot was pulling on him. Usually, the two boys could kid with such "important" manners that they conducted. Yet, this was something that scarcely happened. "Who?" He asked, his tone dropping slightly.  
  
With a slight nod to the door of the warehouse, Spot replied: "Jab."  
  
The hair on the back of Jack's head bristled as he turned towards the direction in which Spot nodded towards. "Jab?" He tried to seek the other out, and then he saw him. A tall and lanky older boy with long black hair stood in the doorway, staring straight at him. Jack frowned and scratched his nose slightly. "Damn it," he swore. "How'd he get here?"  
  
"It's a free country, Jack. Dat boys got da right to walk into Brooklyn as much as you do." Came the response.  
  
"Yeah, but I didn't kill nobody." Jack whispered to himself. Jab was well known to the upper east side as the one who wasn't afraid of the law. Newsies broke laws because they had no other choice. Jab and his gang broke laws because they felt like it; because they felt they had the right. They stole. They murdered. They were beasts.  
  
Spot nodded slightly and clapped his hand lightly on the back of Jack's back. "You should go 'fore he finds dat you'se here."  
"I'se not running from anyone." Jack said, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Dat's what cowards do, and I ain't a coward."  
  
"Jack, stop being a dumb ass." Spot replied tiredly. Jack noted that the younger boy's lips were twitching slightly and his hands were shaking. A cold sweat covered his brow, and his forehead was knit with worry. He was scared.   
  
It was not the first time that he had seen Spot, the fearless Conlon, frightened. Six months ago Jab had reaped havoc upon Harlem. His goons set up secretly and slowly made their way into the community, being excepted. Jab himself had his eye on the quiet, reserved girl named Dot. A lovely girl with light brown hair and illuminating blue eyes, who Spot had known forever. She was a friend of the newsies, and a frequent visitor in Brooklyn. Known by everyone (even by Jab) Spot was quite taken with this girl. Secretly in love with her, in fact. Jack remembered the night when Spot stormed into the lodging house in Manhattan, demanding that all of the older boys follow him to Harlem in order to kill Jab. Earlier that night Jab had captured Dot and had come close to killing the young woman. She was taken to the woman's shelter, broken and delirious. Spot never left her bedside. While Spot spent many a restless night with Dot, Jack and some of the toughest men from all over the city ran Jab and his gang away from the area. They made it quite evident that he wasn't welcome. This was the first time that Jab had reappeared since then.  
  
"Spot?" Jack asked softly, noting the faraway look in his friend's eyes.  
  
"Sorry, just... just gettin' some flashbacks, dat's all." Spot murmured, running a hand through his light brown hair. The image of Dot's sad, feverish blue eyes remained imprinted on his memory. She was fine now, but a fear for Jab's return never left him.  
  
Jack nodded and watched as Spot mustered his strength. The smaller boy cleared his throat and tossed his head slightly.  
  
"Please, Jack." Spot pleaded, his eyes averted as to not look directly at Jack. He didn't want to revert back to the past, for fear of the pain. "Leave here. I don't want... I don't want ta come close to losing anyone I love, again." With that, he walked stiffly to the back of the lodging house where the door to the bunks where hidden, disappearing from sight.  
  
Jack sighed deeply, exhaling the pent up fear he was holding for Spot's sake. He looked in the direction of where Jab had last been, seeing the empty space. He then scanned the sparsely populated warehouse, not seeing the raven haired boy.  
  
"Hey! Cowboy!" Jack heard Race shout from the poker table. "You ever coming back?! I ain't done cleaning you out, yet!"  
  
Jack shook his head and turned away from the table. He knew Spot had a point. Jab had it in for both of them. He would have his revenge because it was his character. Whatever he wanted, he would get no matter the price. With his mind made up, Jack began to walk towards the back door of the lodging house, trying to be as conspicuous as possible.  
  
"Hey, where're you going, Jack?" A young voice asked from behind him. Les was close on his heels, grinning up at him with his cowboy hat slipping off his head to one side. Jack reached out and steadied the hat, smiling down at him.  
  
"Looks like I'se got to make a surprise getaway, little man." He said. Les' eyes opened in shock as he began to protest. "Hey, hey, now." Jack cut in before Les could say anything to any effect. "We'se got a little bit of a problem. Understand? No questions?"  
  
Les shoved his dirty hands into his pockets and shrugged in disappointment. Suddenly his eyes lit up with excitement. "Can I got witcha? Huh, Jack, can I? Davey wouldn't care!"   
  
Jack grinned down at him and slapped Les on the back lightly. "Sure, Les. Go get yer stuff." With the sparkle back in his eye, Les ran as fast as his little legs could take him to where his jacket and wooden sword were situated. Jack could feel a knawing at the back of his mind. He knew that there was something wrong, something not exactly right with him. As Les ran wildly back to him, running into people and knocking some younger boys down, Jack couldn't help but laugh. Surely nothing was the matter. He would take the back alleys back to Manhattan, where Les and him would sleep soundly until the noisy return of the other newsboys woke them up. Jack led the younger boy to the back door, opening it and letting the cool night air into their lungs. Les' dark brown eyes shone up into his, and a moment of pure happiness and peace passed between them. Then they stepped outside, not knowing what the future held for them.  
  
  



	3. To love another person is to see the fac...

"Jack, hey, Jack!" Les called, pulling Jack out of his daydream. Jack turned his head slightly away from the moldy side of the building that he was staring at as they walked to look at his younger friend. He chuckled lightly as he watched Les pretend to sword fight with an imaginary figure in front of him. He jabbed at the empty air, every now and then making triumphant sounds of victory as he scored a direct hit.  
  
They were now nearing the Brooklyn Bridge, being careful to take the back alleys. Jack nervously picked a cigarette apart in his pants pocket where his right hand rested. Les didn't know exactly why they were leaving, and he didn't ask any questions, which was good for Jack. How would he explain that there was someone who was capable of harming everyone in the entire vicinity of New York? Not easily.  
  
"Les, you might wanna keep it down a little," Jack stated nonchalantly as they neared another dark alley lit with the bright moonlight, "We'se going to be nearin' a church cemetery." Les stopped in his tracks and starred at Jack with confused eyes.  
  
"Why'd dat make a difference?" He asked.  
  
"It's 'cause, well... you'd be wakin' da dead." Jack explained. Les continued to stare at him blankly. Jack shook his head and grinned slightly at the ground. "Aww, forget it, buddy." He reached up and pushed Les' cowboy hat over his eyes, causing him to drop his sword.  
  
"Hey!" Les managed between giggles, trying to smooth his unclean hair while straightening his hat at the same time. The alley made an abrupt turn to the right, so they made it while they both slapped playfully at each other.  
  
"Damn!" Jack cursed as he stopped in his tracks. They had run into a dead end.  
  
"Ummn, are we lost or somethin'?" Les asked, trying hide his amusement.  
  
Jack was about to respond when he heard snickering behind them. He turned around uneasily, his stomach suddenly being replaced by a pit of uneasiness. Jab and a few of his gang members stood behind them, fiendish grins on their faces as they moved in to block Jack and Les' escape. They were now boxed in because of the dead end and the human shield.  
  
"Hey, look what we'se got heah. It's dat queer Cowboy an' his little toy, Les!" Jab rasped, raising one of his twisted eyebrows. "Whatchoo doin' on my territory?"  
  
Jack took a deep breath and held Les back behind him with a protective arm. "Dis ain't yours and you know it. You ain't got any right to it." He said in a firm tone. Jab chuckled slightly and looked towards his cronies.  
  
"Shoah I don't." He laughed, the sound reverberating off of the wall in front of him. As if it was a cue, several boys appeared on the top of the wall before dropping down, as if they were graceful cats, on their feet behind Jack and Les. Les gasped and gripped onto Jack's arm, his jagged nails pinching into the older boy's skin painfully.  
  
Jab reached into his pocket and pulled something out of it. Les' terrified eyes widened even more when he heard the faint click of the switch blade knife. A gasp escaped the young boy's mouth as he cowered behind Jack, who managed to keep the stone like expression from wavering off of his face. Sensing his fear, Jab sneered down at Les as he twisted the knife around and about in his right hand. "You know why dey call me Jab, doncha, Lessy?" He asked in almost a sensual whisper.  
  
Les' mouth fell open in a state of shock with the mere thought of the source Jab's name. "I-I..."  
  
"Why doncha go back where you came from an' sleep dis off, huh, Jab?" Jack asked as he held up his free hand in an act of surrender.  
  
"Ya see, Les," Jab continued without the slightest acknowledgment towards Jack, "I got da nickname on da account dat I'se good with me knife. Real good." He reflected the pale moonlight off of his knife and into the small boy's eyes. "Almost too good."  
  
Jack pushed the stunned Les further behind him as he continued to stare at the other boy. "You have no business with us, Jab."   
  
"Oh, on da contrary!" Jab insisted with mock sincerity. "I got all kindsa business with you, Jack-off." With this pun, the boys who stood in the background laughed uproariously. Jab continued to grin at his two captors with a sort of enjoyment. "All kinds." He repeated.  
  
"Den take it up with me some odder time. Without da boy 'round." Jack took a small step forward and waited for a warning. When none came, he took another, all the while pulling Les directly behind him. "Den we can settle whatevah it is dat you wanna..."  
  
"Stop stalling, Cowboy." Jab interrupted fiercely. "You know what I want."  
  
"And what would dat be?" Jack questioned, not even missing a beat.  
  
The other boy took a long, grueling moment to contemplate his usage or words. He then cocked one of his eyebrows up and responded, "You and dat boy dead."   
  
Blinking his eyes rapidly, Les began to shudder. His body shook so fiercely that his cowboy hat fell off of his head and onto the ground. His body became tense with worry as his eyes stared down at his hat.  
  
Jack narrowed his sharp brown eyes at Jab. "Dat's murder."  
  
"No. Dat's justice, Cowboy."  
  
If he could stoop down just a little bit, he could reach the hat. Les bit the corner of his lip and hunched his shoulders slightly as he let his arms fall out from behind Jack.   
  
"Stop beatin' round da bush and tell me what bull you have with me, then!" Jack demanded. He could feel his patience being chipped away piece by piece.   
  
Jab smirked as he continued to twirl his knife around in his hands. "Don't wanna be gettin' mean with me, boy. Just a little warning there. I mean," He threw a glance over Jack's head and then turned his attention back to him. "You wouldn't want to get someone hurt, now, wouldja?"  
  
Before Jack could answer, there was a sharp intake of air from behind him. His left arm was suddenly holding back air as Les was uprooted from his spot. He turned around to see that Les was being held by one of the boys who were previously behind them. The young boy's cowboy hat was lying at Jack's feet.  
  
"Lemme go! Lemme go!!" Les protested as he kicked at the large boy that held him. A bear like hand descended over his mouth, muffling his shouts.   
  
"Tisk tisk! See what happens when we get out of control?" Jab asked. Jack whirled back around to face him.  
  
"Let him go. Now." He growled.  
  
Jab sighed as he ran a hand through his greasy raven colored hair. "I might let him go. An' den again, I might not."  
  
Jack bit back a smart comment, his hands tightly fisted so that the knuckles were white and throbbing with a light pain. "Dependin' on what?" He breathed.  
  
"If you die or not." Jab responded, his wild green eyes flashing cryptically.  
  
Les' struggles became feverish. He kicked against the force which held him, pulling at the strong arms and kicking at the trunk-like legs. He never once took his eyes off of the two older boys in front of him.  
  
"You'se crazy." Jack said, staring a hole into the other boy.  
  
"And you know it." Jab switched his pocket knife to his right hand, taking a step in Jack's direction. "Make a choice, Jacky-boy. Go ahead. You or him? You got the guts er not, huh?"  
  
"I would," Jack responded. "If it's just you an' me. No one else." Jab took the hint and nodded to the men around him. A few left wordlessly, while the rest mumbled disappointingly. The goon holding Les was the only one left. He switched his hold on the small boy, grunting softly as Les continued to try to escape.  
  
Jab turned his intense gaze back on Jack. "Dere. You got your wish. Anyt'ing else, yer majesty?"  
  
Jack wordlessly pulled his own knife out of his back pocket. "No." He said, centering his body. Jab grinned as they both began to circle each other, slowly. Their eyes never left the other. Les' moist eyes faltered between the two animal-like boys, hiccuping behind the strong hand that held his lips shut. His legs dangled tiredly against the man who held him.  
  
"Don't you have any last words?" Jab asked, a grin spreading along his wicked mouth. His yellow teeth could be seen clearly from the moonlight. Jack shook his head slowly, not breaking his concentration in the slightest.  
  
"Den say goodbye to yer little friend, Cowboy." Jab growled, whirling to his left to where Les was being held captive against the wall. Jack's heart rushed into his throat as he scrambled towards Jab, ready to plunge his knife into any accessible part of his body. Jab savagely ripped the small boy from the larger man's hands and held his knife against his throat. Les whimpered helplessly, dropping to the ground on his knees, tears streaming down his face. Jack stopped in his tracks, his eyes bright with worry.  
  
Jab grinned triumphantly. "Looks like you both lose tonight, Jack!" He cried out. "You got what you wanted. You caught me in my game an' kicked me out. Now what're you gonna do, huh? Cry on me?" Jack savagely wiped a shirt sleeve across his face, rubbing the tears off of his face.  
  
"Ja-Ja...Jack..." Les whimpered, his lips trembling from fear.  
  
Jab laughed cruelly and pouted in Jack's direction. "C'mon, boy. Don't be gettin' chicken on me, now!"  
  
"You know you don't want it to go down like dis, Jab." Jack said in an even voice. He fought to hold control. His knife was still securely in his right hand, but he had now straightened up and composed himself slightly. He tried his best not to look down at Les. "You know it's me dat you want, not some little kid."  
  
"You know me all too well." Jab said. "But dis kid means nothin' to me. You think I'd cry if I killed 'im? Oh, boo hoo!"  
  
"I'm askin' you to let him go, okay? He got nothin' ta do with all dis."  
  
Jab paused, thinking of the possibilities. "Okay. Lets do dis." With that he threw Les to the ground, before jumping up rushing at Jack, slashing at him. A pang of pain ran it's course through Jack's body as the sharp knife made it's way across his left bicep. His blue shirt was stained with a thin line of blood that quickly spread. He dodged out of the line of fire, tripping over his own feet and collapsing onto his back. Jab growled and pounced onto Jack, knocking the knife out of his hand and holding him down by his chest.  
  
Les gasped, watching Jack's knife fly off against the wall. He scrambled to his feet, trying feverishly to find the knife in the dim lighting. It was nowhere to be seen.  
  
Jack wrapped his strong hands around Jab's arms, pushing up with all of his might while Jab pushed down with all of his. Jab slowly moved himself so that he was resting his knees on Jack's heaving chest, both of their faces red with exertion as they grunted and groaned.  
  
With the panic of a young boy, Les brought himself to his feet. The knife had disappeared, and he watched dejectedly as Jack and Jab fought for the upper hand. Jack was losing strength, gravity working against him as Jab slowly inched the knife closer to Jack's chest.  
  
Les saw red. He sprinted the few feet towards the other boys and madly threw himself at Jab's side. The impact was surpassingly great, catching both Jab and Jack off guard. Jab was thrown to the side, the knife still in a downward motion. He landed with a sickening thud on his side, his head cracking against the dirt alley and the knife tearing through the clothing and skin on his lower abdomen. A low moan escaped his mouth, and then he lay still and silent.  
  
Opening his eyes, Les found himself laying halfway on top of Jack who was weezing lightly and trying to stand up. His muscles were weak and his arms shook as he fought to right himself. He could still feel the throbbing from the gash in his arm, where the cloth on his shirt was now caked with blood.  
  
Les ignored the pounding pain in his shoulders and head, which received the most impact from his collision with Jab, and stood to help his friend up. Jack stood on legs like a baby foal, swaying slightly side to side, looking down at Jab's broken form. A puddle of blood was beginning to form under his body, and a small trickle of redness trickled from the corner of his mouth that was pointed to the ground.  
  
"You... you 'kay, Cowboy?" Les asked shakily, his eyes still red and wet.  
  
"Yeah. I'll live," Jack said with a smile. He reached out and tousled Les' ragged hair. "Thanks to you." He pulled the younger boy into his arms in a strong embrace, both of them holding on tightly. Les breathed in Jack's smell as he pushed his face into his chest as if he wanted to leave an imprint.  
  
Jab opened his eyes slightly, sensing a murderous pain in his stomach. Some parts of his body were numb and his head was fuzzy. He raised his head in a drunken manner, slowly and deliberatly. He took in the sight of Jack and Les hugging, both of them with their eyes averted. A part of Jab's conscience mind whispered to him that he still held his knife in both of his hands. Without sense of being, he pulled the blood slicked knife out of his middle, both of his hands shaking all of the while, and pointed it in the boys' directions. He painfully brought himself to a semi-sitting position, the blood slightly gushing out of him. As his breathing became more irregular and he began to choke on his own blood, he used the rest of his God given strength to drive the knife into the two boys, before collapsing onto his face, dead.  
  
The knife drove in-between Jack and Les. There was a sharp intake of air as both of them stiffened in pain while the blade contacted with skin. They then both had the sensation of falling, Les collapsing gracelessly onto Jack's chest as he fainted from mixed feelings of surprise and fear.  
  
Consciousness slowly came back to Les as a small throbbing pain ached in his side. The blade had sliced a not so deep gash into him. He sat up quickly, looking down into Jack's face eagerly. The older boy's brow was slick with fresh sweat and his hands were now clasped on his side.  
  
"Jack?" Les whispered harshly. "Jack, Jack, wake up!" he urged.  
  
Jack's lips parted slowly and his tongue flicked out, wetting his chapped lips. "Les... run! Go get help, now! Oh God... Ohh..." he uttered before moaning slightly, clenching his eyes tighter than before. The knife had plunged deep into his side, drawing enough blood to form a dark puddle near him, just as one had around Jab. Les stared intently at the dark liquid, wishing it to go away.  
  
"No, I won't leave you, Jack, no." Les insisted feverishly. "Get up, Cowboy, c'mon... don't, don't die, okay?" Les pleaded, tears spilling over his eyes again. He grasped madly onto Jack's shoulders trying to pull the boy up. Jack's gasps of pain, however, forced him to stop. Les instead slid off of Jack's legs onto his knees as he whimpered besides his best friend. The tears he shed mixed into the blood that continued to pour out of Jack's body.  
  
"I... I'm sorry, Les." Jack uttered, his face now an ashy shade of pale. He opened his eyes, blinking away a few tears of pain and sorry from the brown orbs. "I'm so sorry."  
  
"No, Jack. Don't say dat. You'se gonna be okay. Right?" Les begged of him.  
  
"I don't... t'ink so. It hurts. A lot." His breath caught in his throat as a spasm of pain came to his attention.  
  
Les drug a dirty sleeve across his eyes. "What'm I gonna do without ya, Jack? Huh?" He asked.  
  
"Live, I guess." Jack said, his attempt at a joke, which fell flat. "Ya know I care 'bout you, right, Les?"  
  
"Yeah." Les whispered in return.  
  
"Tell dat to Davey, kay? And... and Sarah. Da boys. Tell 'em all." Jack clenched his eyes tight yet again, his hands spasaming slightly. "Tell 'em how much dey... dey meant. Ta me. Sometimes I nevah... I nevah got da chance."  
  
Les waited intently for Jack to say more. To say something about how much money Race owed him. Or how Blink was supposed to buy him a cola at Tibby's. Or even how Les mistreated his cowboy hat. Something! Anything!  
  
"Jack?" He asked after a few moments had passed. Jack's body was now still, his eyes no longer clenched and his chest no longer rising in fast, painful gasps. "Jack?" The young boys' lips trembled, and he erupted into sobs. His chest heaved and his eyes burned. He threw himself onto Jack's still body, crying for both of them. For all of them that had lost their great leader, and wonderful friend.  
~*  
Les was found a few hours later, clutching onto the dead body of his hero. The murderer lay close by. The broken hearted boy was ushered off to bed, seldomly saying a word to anyone (even his family) for a month after the funeral. Time went on, life reverted back to normal. Les went back to school, his life no longer centering around newsies. His developing New York accent was replaced by a finer vocabulary. He buried himself in school work, becoming interested in law. He became successful, yet empty inside. There was something missing from his life. The odd thing was, was that he knew what ailed him all along. The road he had left so far behind him that painful night had to be retaken. He needed that moment of conclusion to forgive himself, to move on.  
~*  
Now the young man, fifteen years older, kneeled beside the grave of his good friend, who had so long ago left him.  
  
"I, umn, brought something to give you." He muttered to the boulder headstone, the wind whipping across his cold face. "It's rightfully yours, I guess." He reached behind him to where his nap sack sat in the dank. Unzipping it slowly, he reached inside and pulled out the only thing he had kept dear to him for all of those years.  
  
With a light smile he placed the worn, faded cowboy hat on top of the boulder. He sat back on his hunches, staring at the hat. He remembered stooping down in the alley in the early sunrise, his face puffy from crying, as he picked up the cowboy hat that had been discarded due to the dreadful events of that night. He remembered staring at the hat many sleepness nights, trying not to think about how much he missed his friend, Jack, or how much he wanted to have died along beside him.  
  
"It fits you." Les then stood up and re-shouldered his nap sack, never taking his eyes off of the hat. "I told them, you know." He said. "I told them all how much you loved them. How much you cared. I wanted to tell myself how much you loved me, in turn. But I couldn't do it. I guess I blamed myself, Jack. I did." The wind picked up speed yet again, pushing the gray clouds across the sky. To Les it seemed as if Jack was talking to him. "I love you, too, Jack." He whispered. He closed his eyes, feeling the warm feeling of fresh tears of emotion flow back into his body. Freedom from his curse was inevitable. He was now free to travel on his own way, without fear of persecution from his past.  
  
With a last look at the resting hat on the gravestone, Les turned away towards the gate of the graveyard. He faced an entire different outlook on his life, now. And suddenly it was a beautiful day for a new beginning.  
  



End file.
